


The Uses of Literacy

by ImpOfPerversity



Series: Devastation-verse [23]
Category: Baroque Cycle - Neal Stephenson, Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: 1 Sentence Fiction, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-11-26
Updated: 2004-11-26
Packaged: 2018-10-21 07:32:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10680648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImpOfPerversity/pseuds/ImpOfPerversity





	The Uses of Literacy

"Read to me again, Jack," said Jack Shaftoe sleepily, eyes closed and still beneath their lids, basking in the soft golden lamplight as though it were sunlight and he soaking up the rays with every scarred, textured inchlet of his skin; an image that made Jack Sparrow sigh, smiling, as he lay beside Shaftoe in the cleverly-knotted cradle of rope and canvas (scented with sweat, seed and that peculiar sweetness that seemed to Jack to emanate from Shaftoe, though not from any specific _part_ of him) which constituted their shared bed, a bed in which the two of them lay skin to skin, the hair on Jack's arm tingling where it tangled with the hair on Shaftoe's, the muscle in the hollow of his hip leaping with its sheer proximity to Jack Shaftoe's cruelly curtailed -- yet peculiarly puissant -- yard, and Jack himself grinning with simple good humour at the presence of so very entertaining, inventive and diverting an individual in his bed ( _their_ bed): though, he reminded himself, Jack Shaftoe was also demanding; had, in fact, demanded more entertainment from Jack (albeit of a more intellectual, less animal sort) this very moment, and had requested entertainment in a form which he was (as yet) unable to reciprocate -- though Jack'd thought the same, until yesterday, of various other Pass-times regarding which Mr Shaftoe had subsequently demonstrated, at length and most emphatically, a desire to give as good as he got (which, Jack thought modestly, was really rather good), in a manner that, if not entirely within the letter of the act then certainly in its spirit; and Jack had been wholly satisfied by the demonstration -- and thus _this_ favour was to be wholly one-sided, at least for now; but Jack Sparrow was fond of the sound of his own voice, and he reached up to the shelf above the cot and scrabbled around blindly until he found a leather-bound, gold-stamped volume, crease-spined and ragged-paged; "This do you, Jack?" he said, and Shaftoe, without opening his eyes, smiled and made an affirmative noise, which made Jack smile too; he settled himself more comfortably against Shaftoe's muscular, accommodating arm, tilted the book so that the lamplight fell upon its mottled pages, and began to read: " _The handsome Corsair leapt from the rail of his Ship and landed on the deck of the Galleon_ (a likely tale, the deck'd be ten foot higher) _to find himself confronting a Man who, though vastly Different, was his equal in every way; blond where he was dark,_ (of course, Jack; did I not tell you so, you've the looks of a Frankish hero) _fair-skinned while the Corsair was burnt by sun and wind, but as Lithe and Muscular, his strong Chest revealed by the rags of what had once been a fine Shirt -- and in his hand a fabulous Blade of Oriental make, which he brandished fiercely as he called his Challenge; and the Corsair sprang to meet him with,_ yes, yes, lunge and parry and the like; you don't want every nit-picking detail, d'you, Jack? _until at last the gallant Captain cried, 'Enough!' and cast down his Turkish sword at the Corsair's feet, and next himself, saying, 'You are too fine a man to kill; strike me dead if you will, but'_ \-- I beg your pardon, Mr Shaftoe? no, I don't believe he _did_ have a cresset concealed in his other hand; 'twas Love, not Cunning, that moved him, and I'm sure --" but Jack Shaftoe smiled broader, and wriggled closer, and (eyes still closed) bestowed a lingering kiss on Jack's shoulder, so sweet a gesture that Jack Sparrow (fearsome pirate captain though he prided himself upon being) closed his eyes and smiled beatifically himself; then, opening his eyes once more, had to peer at the page to find his place; "ah yes, _then the Corsair took the handsome Captain by the shoulders and raised him up, and said, 'How can I slay such a brave Heart?', and, perceiving that the Captain was fainting_ (I judge they'd nicked each other a time or two, in a bloody but unmortal sort of way) _before him, caught him up and carried him from the stricken Treasure-Galleon_ (lucky bastard, hope his crew took proper care of the plundering while he was gallivanting on the poop-deck) _to his very own Cabin on board the Corsair-Ship; and so 'twas that the Captain, waking, found himself between linen Sheets, Stripp'd to his bare Skin, while his erstwhile Foe washed the Blood from his Skin; 'You live!' exclaimed the Pirate, his dark eyes intent on his Captive, who lay there Naked at his Mercy, his fair Skin seeming very dark against the white Cloth, Lip caught between his Teeth as he endured the Corsair's oddly gentle Ministrations, the feel_ \--" and Jack Shaftoe grinned, and said, "I don't need open eyes, Captain Sparrow, to tell you ain't turned the page for quite some time; anyone'd think you were _making it up_ , eh?" and Jack grinned too, sharp and playful, and said, "Ah, but maybe I'm better at _making it up_ than whatever land-bound pen-pusher wrote this; _Lip caught between his Teeth as he felt the Corsair's gaze move over his Naked Body like a Hand, Caressing everything it saw, promising him Caresses in truth; and the Captain of the Galleon found himself keenly Anticipating the moment_ \--": Jack's voice had been growing softer and huskier, perhaps because his blood was surging as two layers of fantasy, the literary and the literal, intersected, and now Shaftoe curled closer, murmuring, "I can't hear you, Jack," but his wicked smile tokened other motives than mere auditory convenience; and now, head cushioned on Jack's chest, "the better to hear you," his clever tongue crept out and traced spirals on Jack's skin, enough to make him lose track of his tale; " _and then the Galleon-Captain, knowing himself Prisoner and perversely welcoming that Estate, set his hands upon the Corsair's dark skin, and worked their way beneath his Shirt, and felt the strong Beat of the Corsair's Heart; and then_ , oh, then, oh, Jack, do that again," Jack implored, and Shaftoe grinned and said, "Carry on, then,", and returned his mouth to its employ; and Jack gathered his scattered, glowing thoughts, and began to reconstruct what he could of a tale (" _and then the Pirate Ravaged his Captive's Mouth, finding there a fiery, um, Fire, and kissed, and kissed, and_ oh Jack his hand, yes, _the Galleon Captain's Hand crept down between their two Bodies until he felt the Evidence of the Pirate's Passion, and he Groaned to feel it, and the Corsair groaned with him as though they were Prisoners together, and ..._ "), his voice a tactile thing, creeping over Shaftoe's skin the way that the warm light crept over them both, the way that the blood surged through them both, the way that Jack's hands (the book closed and set carefully aside) stroked and swirled over Shaftoe's warm treasure-map skin, the way that Jack Shaftoe's hands, and mouth, and all of his body tenderly loved Jack Sparrow.


End file.
